


Euphemistically Speaking

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2338037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sif and Jane go together for a short outing while waiting for Thor to return.</p><p>One could say it goes well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Euphemistically Speaking

Again, Sif's gaze has wandered.

Once more, it has strayed from her book and has instead laid itself upon the form of Jane Foster. She wears blue trousers - “ _jeans_ ”, so the Midgardians call them - that hug tightly to her form, cinched in at the waist and stretched about her thighs, and her shirt is white and tight against her stomach and chest, accentuating her breasts. It is rolled up to her sleeves, and her forearms are left bare.

On her fingernails is blue paint that does not touch her hands or forearms, and those forearms are nice but not so fascinating as Jane's clothed form, and it is strange, Sif thinks, that Jane Foster can wear fabric that covers so much of her skin, and yet she can be so _alluring_ to the eye.

She is speaking, Jane Foster is, rapidly and with numerous gesticulations of her charming fingers, laid over with scars and marks from her experimentations, no doubt. Hogun listens intently, and although his face is stern, now and then he will interject with a comment that will affect her to become even more excited about the topic of choice.

A few moments more, and on Hogun's face is a grim smile. He likes Jane Foster, though perhaps not in the same way Sif would like to.

The Warriors Four are waiting on Midgard for Thor to make contact with the Avengers once more – Thor is, it can be freely said, no longer involved romantically with Jane Foster. If Sif were to step forwards, now, cup the other woman's cheek and dip her back, kiss her hard and deeply-

Sif looks back to her book, her neck stiffening.

“Just do it.” whispers a low, seductive voice. If her inner demons were usually so irritating of tone she might have attributed the words to them, but they are not; she turns her head to Fandral, and raises an eyebrow.

“I will excuse your errant comment.” She says quietly, taking more pity on his idiocy than she ought. He sprawls beside her, resting his chin on his hand and looking up at her with amusement.

“Come now, my lady Sif. Why is it that you will not _indulge_?” Fandral purrs, and Sif is grateful that Volstagg is with Thor, lest she be irritated by two men of similar stupidity.

“I witness yours and Volstagg's _indulgences_ every day, Fandral. The varied sights do put one off.” Fandral chuckles, amused and light-hearted about his attempts to lead her astray, as he always is. Irritating.

“Come now, what is _one_ indulgence?” He coaxes in an easy, casual tone.

“Indulgence?” Jane asks, having made her way over, and Hogun meets Sif's eyes. He does not grin, or smirk, or look amused in the way Fandral does. He simply raises his left eyebrow, and Sif feels mild heat burn in the upper parts of her cheeks.

“Sif, _come_ now. T'is a Midgardian _delicacy._ ” Fandral purrs, and the mild heat becomes something of a burn beneath her flesh.

“What is?” Jane asks, laughing a little, and as she does so she reaches up and plays through her hair. She is _beautiful._ Sif has no idea why Thor would let her go.

“Why, _chocolate_ , my good lady. It is not something we partake of, in Asgard. Such a shame, in truth – we ought bring some back.” Fandral speaks with a significance Sif is glad to see going over the scientist's head – Sif is grateful for her lack of immense social charm, and for Fandral's skill in being an insufferable man of numerous innuendos. Sif presses her lips together.

“Fandral, _really_ , I have no wish to “partake”.” Jane Foster's hand is suddenly in front of Sif's face. Sif reluctantly looks from her book to her fingers, those lovely fingers, with scars from her scientific work but no warrior's callouses as Sif has on her own. The blue paint, Sif sees up close, is a shade of azure, and it shines some in the light – parts of it are chipped, no doubt from her work.

“Come on, Sif.” Jane Foster says, and her smile is bright, and warm. Jane Foster's lips look plump and kissable, and it is perhaps for the sake of that distraction that Sif takes the proffered hand. Jane pulls her up and then releases her once more, and Sif's fingers feels empty for the lack.

She leads the taller woman outside and away from Hogun and Fandral, and with that they walk from the office down the street, into the city. It is automatic that Sif squares her shoulders and readies her hands, glancing for threats about them as if she has been assigned as Jane Foster's protective detail. One man looks at Jane for a few seconds too long, but a sharp glance from Sif turns his head away.

Her lip twitches, and she is satisfied.

“Here!” Jane Foster says, and she points to a store, a house of brown biscuit made in its window, decorated in icing and a treat Hogun is fond of called “gum drops”. Also marshmallows. Sif twists her mouth at the thought – she does not _like_ marshmallows, or their odd texture on her tongue. “Manson's – chocolatiers.” Jane says helpfully.

“Ah.” Sif says, and her breath hitches just for a moment in her throat as Jane grasps at her hand again, pulling her inside. On every shelf are boxes and plastic-wrapped sets of chocolates and candies. Some are in regular shapes, bars or small balls she recognizes, but others are shaped into flowers or animals or-

Sif steps forwards, reaching up to a high shelf and grasping at a bag of shaped chocolates, regarding them curiously. “Is it customary on this world to shape confectionery after genitalia, Jane Foster?”

Jane's cheeks flush a deep and impressive scarlet, and Sif finds herself enchanted by the sight.

“ _Customary_ isn't the word I use. People find them funny, something to laugh over with friends.” Jane chuckles. “Darcy actually bought me some cock-shaped-” She bites her own lip, cutting herself off. “No, never mind-”

“Please,” Sif says, looking down at her with interest as she replaces the mixed bag of vulvas and penises. Odd customs, here on Midgard, but she can view them in good humour. “Tell me.”

“She tricked me into going on a blind date with this girl, but when I met her I actually had this, this, um, this penis in my mouth-” Sif smiles as Jane laughs, embarrassed as she rubs at the back of her neck. “I looked _ridiculous._ ”

“The date went well?” Sif asks, and she feigns a curiosity that is not too terribly invested. Inwardly, she hopes for a “No”, and feels the worse for it.

“No, uh, turned out she had kind of an issue with bisexuals.” Jane says, moving forwards and plucking two boxes of mixed chocolates from a shelf. Thanks be to whatever being Sif has on her side.

“Bisexuals?” Sif repeats, and she tilts her head slightly. The word is foreign to her – it is strange, she thinks, how many customs are shared between Asgard and Midgard, and yet how numerous the differences of language are.

“Uh, people who are attracted to different genders. She was a lesbian – a woman only attracted to other woman – and- some lesbians have an issue with people like me. They think we're uh, more likely to cheat or something.”

“On Asgard there are merely sexual acts – a person's attraction is usually to individuals, and is not based on their gender any more than it might be based on hair colour. Your orientation has no bearing on your ability to be monogamous.” Sif says, and Jane nods.

“Exactly.” She smiles, and Sif is disarmed by the radiance of it. “Uh, Sif, I've got these, but do you want to try something from the chocolate fountain?” Sif looks to the device resting on the store's counter with an uncertain mistrust. “Oh, come on.” Jane teases, and she pokes Sif in the hip with the backs of her knuckles, grinning a little. “Why not try it?”

“Very well.” Sif says reluctantly. Jane moves forwards, and Sif listens as she asks for marshmallows soaked in the thick, melted chocolate, glances back to Sif with a grin, and then orders strawberries too. The latter she hands to Sif as she pays, and Sif holds the stick of soaked strawberries cautiously, careful not to drip the liquefied chocolate on her armour.

She dips her head and bites into one of the strawberries, and despite herself she lets out a short, quiet groan at the mix of melted chocolate and the sweet, sharp taste of the fruit beneath. “Mmf-” She hums, leaning over the napkin in order not to drop any of the chocolate clinging to her lips.

“It's good, right?” Jane asks, and they move outside together – Sif is content enough to settle on a bench beside the other woman, and she watches Jane struggle with the marshmallows speared upon her stick. Sif finishes her own strawberries swiftly enough, and yes – the chocolate is sweet and thick, and it is good.

“How is it that you knew of my dislike?” Sif asks, pointing to the other's marshmallows. They even _look_ unappetizing, though she does not say so.

“I saw you try some of Darcy's Lucky Charms this morning.” Jane admits, amused. “You spat out the marshmallows and looked ready to gag.” Sif chuckles at her own folly, somewhat caught out – she had not realized anyone had seen that small misstep of hers. “You've got a little-” Jane reaches out, and she thumbs over Sif's lower lip, drawing her hand back with a drop of it on her skin.

She draws it to her own mouth, and Sif stares, watching as Jane sucks the remnants from the end of the digit. Sif's mouth is dryer than she might have thought possible, and the chocolate has nothing to do with it.

Jane meets her eye, and they freeze for a moment; then Sif leans down and presses her lips against the other woman's, putting her hand in Jane's hair as she presses closer and into the kiss. Jane lets out a quiet noise that is muffled against the warrior's lips, and then they part again, looking at each other for a few moments.

“You have something on your mouth.” Sif says, and Jane attempts to keep her face straight for a moment before she begins to chuckle, drawing back and wiping over her mouth with a napkin.

“So have you. Kissing didn't help.” Jane says lightly, offering her the mostly-clean paper, and Sif takes it, doing the same.

“Let us kiss anyway.” Sif suggests, doing her best not to sound too eager (such things are not befitting of an Asgardian warrior.)

“Alright.” Jane murmurs, and she drops their empty papers and newly clean sticks into a bin for rubbish, and then she puts her hands on Sif's own, pressing up to kiss Sif again. The chocolate is, for the time being, forgotten at their feet.

“I believe this is the first time Fandral has ever volunteered good advice.” Sif murmurs against Jane's mouth when they part, foreheads still touching, and Jane grins.

“The chocolate was a euphemism, then?”

“Indeed.” Sif agrees, and her fingers play over Jane's. “Though it is a sweet and decadent material I am willing to be hedonistic with, however. So a worthy metaphor it is.” Jane giggles, and then she snorts, and then she draws back and puts her hand over her own mouth, flushing bright red once more.

“For what reason do you blush so?” Sif asks curiously, amused.

“Nothing.” Jane mumbles, and she draws her hand back, still smiling with her pink, plump lips, her white teeth. “Just excited, I suppose.”

“ _Excited_? For what reason, pray?” Sif teases, and Jane catches her hands.

“No idea. I've yet to see something to be excited about.” Sif laughs, and she moves to stand.

“I have not shown you myself properly yet, then. Come, let us go.” Jane interlinks their arms, the bag of chocolate in her hand as she leans into the taller woman.

“Let's.” Jane agrees, and Sif is satisfied once again.

This time, when her gaze wanders to Jane's face, her chest, the hand that is linked with Sif's own, she feels neither guilt nor embarrassment.

No: _satisfaction_ is the word.

And with that word in mind, by this evening's end, Jane Foster will be _satisfied_ as well.

 


End file.
